The Company of Miracles made the decision to take up Emmalaine on her offer that night.

The argument was surprisingly vociferous, at least from those who wanted no part in the plan. Gainsborough, Ororo and Katherine Shadowskin all cited many reasons not to trust Emmalaine or her invitation to her wedding, in the latter’s case after a full-fledged screaming match between herself and Mistress Red and the rest of the Company. When it became obvious that disagreement was futile Mistress Kit stalked out in a fury, Gainsborough behind her. Ororo following after them, after murmuring something low and worried-sounding in her own language to Scott. The decision didn’t surprise Stray; The Hrimcaeld- that is, the Frozen North- was entering the bitterest, leanest part of its winter and even with Ororo and Logan’s skill with a bow (and their decided disregard for hunting laws) game was becoming scarcer every day. There was precious little firewood and even less fresh water; Every pond and stream they came upon seemed to be frozen solid or blocked. And their supplies of cheese, bread and salted meat could only hold out so long, what with so many mouths to feed-

So really, it was no great shock that she and Scott accepted Emmalaine’s invitation, however insolently it had been given.

What surprised Stray however, was how eager Logan seemed to be.

Stray had felt her eyes begin to droop even as she watched the argument, for all that she had slept a little last night. So as soon as the decision was made Logan had taken her hand and pulled her to her feet, indicating with a nod of his head that she should come outside. His shoulders were tense and wary, but something about his step telling Stray that he was feeling jittery. Wound up. As soon as the door of the hall closed behind him he began hurrying her through the snowy woods towards the Company’s camp. Stray only had a chance to glimpse a huge, squat, one storey house overrun with the roots of an impossibly tall oak tree (she would later find out it was Gainsborough’s manor) before he pulled her into his caravan. As soon as she was inside he closed the door, setting the place into darkness. The milky, wan light of the day outside had trouble piercing the murk of his dirty window panes, and there was no other illumination, a fact which she guessed did not bother one with senses such as his. For a moment she was silent and tongue-tied, cheeks staining red- After all, she had been raised to be a fine lady and fine ladies do not allow themselves to be bundled into darkened gentlemen’s quarters, no matter what mystical bond it has been claimed they share-

But then she heard a mumbled curse, followed by a moment’s fumbling with clothing and a match being struck.

Logan reached over and set light to the candle-lamp beside her, and suddenly the room was flooded in golden light.

“You were dead on your feet,” he said then, his voice quiet. “I thought you’d want to rest.” He was staring at her, his expression somehow soft and wary at the same time; He went to sit down beside her and Stray belatedly realised she was sitting on his bed. She made to move away just as he made to still her and their bodies collided, not hard enough to wind her, just hard enough to remind her what his weight felt like pressed against hers. The scarlet in her cheeks worsened, brown eyes averted as she tried not to let the memory of last night in the cave overpower her. It seemed very far away and improper, now that they were in a camp where anyone could hear-

A beat passed and Stray heard Logan take a puffing breath, his fingers going to her chin to turn it.

She permitted him to do so, but did not meet his eyes.

“Stray-” he began.

“Don’t,” she murmured.

Surprise was evident in his tone. “Don’t what?” He gestured to the caravan. “Is this not an easier place to sleep than a cave?”

Her lips barely moved as she said the words. “In the cave people weren’t listening…”

“Believe me, nobody here will listen- Not if they know what’s good fer them.”

She heard rather than saw his smile and despite herself she smiled a little in return. He took that as his cue to move closer, his arm and hip now pressing against hers. It occurred to Stray to wonder why so simple a touch from Lord David had never had the same effect; She felt… warm. Warm and surprisingly safe. “I’m sorry about this morning,” he was saying, his voice hesitant. “And I’m sorry if- I’m sorry if I have not been the man I should be to you. But I needed to talk to you before we leave for the Southlands, and if I don’t do it now I won’t get the chance- not while we’re alone.” This time when he tipped her chin up she met his eyes. They were golden. “Are you awake enough to have this conversation, girl?” he asked.

She nodded, wariness settling around her; She didn’t like where this was heading. but she still said, “Yes, Logan.”

“Good.” He seemed unconvinced by her answer, but evidently decided to hold his tongue. “I know that we haven’t known one another fer very long, Stray,” he began then. “And I doubt I’m the sort your people would hold with, if you were still under their protection- Which I assume you’re not?” She wanted to protest but she knew he was right: Neither her mother nor her father would ever have approved of her sitting on Logan’s bed, let alone sleeping in his arms. And she certainly wasn’t under her parents’ protection anymore. “That being the case,” he was saying, “before we pass into the Southlands, I would like you to- That is, I would like permission to tell people that you have become my- my chatelaine.” He was looking at her very intently. “Do you know what that means?”

Instantly Stray was on her feet.

She knew precisely what a chatelaine was, she’d often seen the one Lord David’s father kept as she sauntered through town. The woman had been beautiful, stunning even. Clever and educated and dripping with jewels and furs and everything else that money could buy. What she had not been, however, was Lord Anthony’s wife, and she never would be-

No man married a chatelaine, any more than they married a common whore.

He must have read her expression, because immediately his hands tightened on hers, the grip turning uncomfortable. That beast within him growling, angry with her reaction no doubt. On some level Stray knew she was being unfair; She had not been forced into intimacy or seduced by him and he had made her no promises, at least none that pertained to her heart. But the knowledge of how he saw her made her soulsick: Being yelled at because he worried for her safety was one thing, but to be told that he wanted her as nothing but, but a plaything was a beast of another stripe. Anger flooded through her: Before he could stop her she began shouting, worries about people being able to hear them suddenly a thing of the past.

“You listen to me, Logan,” she snapped. “And you listen well. I may have come far in life, but I’m more than a strumpet for you to warm your bed with! I’m more than an excuse to improve your reputation, or to boast when you’re in your cups.” She was breathing hard now and she punctuated each word with a sharp poke to his chest; The beast within may have growled at it but the man held his tongue.

“Is that what you think this is?” he asked quietly instead.

For the first time in their acquaintance his voice sounded truly dangerous, but Stray was too angry to care.

“What do you expect me to think this is, Logan?” she demanded. “You say you wish to keep me as, as a mistress-”

“I did not say I wanted to keep you as mistress,” he hissed. “I said I wished to tell people that’s what you were to me.”

“To what end?”

“To the same end as all my other dealings with you,” he snapped. “To keep you safe, you stubborn girl!”

And before she could say anything else he stood, towering over her. Forced his face into hers to do it, though it meant he had to stoop. They were very suddenly eye to eye, chest to chest, their breath in each others’ faces.

And just like every other time this had happened, her lungs chose that moment to forget how to work.

“You saw Mistress Kitty in there,” Logan said then, his voice low and intense.

Stray swallowed. “If by that you mean Katherine Shadowskin, then yes I did.”

“And you saw the man who came in with Emmalaine, the one she called her man-servant?”

Again she nodded. “Aye, that I did.”

“Well that was Kit’s husband, Petya. He joined the Company the same time she did, after they’d been married fer less than a year. You never saw a man as devoted to his woman as he was- Him’n Kit were childhood sweethearts, practically joined at the hip the whole first year I knew them.”

“So what happened?”

Logan snorted in disgust. “Emmalaine happened. Emmalaine, Begot-Of-Trouble, Frost happened. She took it into that diamond-hard head of hers to be jealous of Kitty’s happiness and decided to ruin her, decided to ruin them both. Never had one to put a wedding ring on her finger, you see, her not being the sort of termagant a man marries or even keeps company with fer more than a week at a time.” And he made a show of shrugging coldly. Stray felt a shiver go down to her toes. “By the time we realised that she’d used her Curse on him Petya had broken with Kitty,” he was saying. “Disavowed her in front of the entire Company and told her also that Emmalaine was large with his child, which we later found out was a lie-”

Stray crossed her arms. “Why are you telling me this?”

His smile was hard and sharp. “Because Emmalaine has a taste fer married men, Stray,” he muttered. “She has a taste fer punishing their women too, as poor Kitty Shadowskin can attest. Tried to use her Curse to get the lass to hang herself, fer she’s a Thought Reader by far more vicious and vindictive than gentle Mistress Red.” And he shook his head, some memory angering him. The fury in in face gave even Stray pause. “She is dangerous,” he was saying, “More dangerous than anyone believes, especially a sop-hearted creature like Red, or an alter boy like Scott. I could tell her that there’s nothing between us but she won’t believe it, and you can place coin that as soon as she and Gold have you in Shaw’s Manor they’ll try to cause you grief, do not even think to doubt it- Which, my clever, stubborn little Trouble-Begot, is more than even my splintered monster’s heart could take. So if I cannot fool her into thinking you are my wife you must be my chatelaine-

I don’t make the rules in this ridiculous land, but it’s as simple as that.”

Oh.

Stray felt her brimstone temper go out of her as soon as it had arrived, repentance blooming in its stead. For all that he’d called her a Trouble-Begot, a magnet for misfortune, she knew that he was right.

She held her tongue for a long, lean beat.

“Sorry,” she said then, her voice tiny. She’d placed a small hand on his bicep, there where it was protected by his shirt, and she heard the beast within him give a little huff and pleasure at the action.

“I know you are.” He sat himself down onto his bed, the fight gone out of him.“And I know I should have found another way to ask that. I know how it must sound. But if there’s even a chance that such a lie will save you then I am more than happy to tell it. I know it may make you embarrassed, but I’d rather you were embarrassed than dead.”

And he took her hand, turning it over in his own as he examined it in the lamplight.

Stray took a deep breath and sat back down beside him, keeping the bare skin of her legs carefully away from the uncovered flesh of his feet.

Another, shorter beat.

“So say we told this lie,” she began then, her tone curious. “What would you expect of me? What would it take to make it work?”

He shrugged. “You would have to share this place with me,” he said. The damn blush came back with a vengeance, and the ghost of a smile formed in Logan’s lips. “You would have to boast of your love fer me, say you were mine. And we would have to let it be known that we were- that we were in the way of lovers.”

His expression tightened as he said that, but he did not pull his hand away.

She cocked her head, mulling the idea over. “Would we have to share a bed?” she asked.

“No!” When he saw her reaction he forced himself to lower his voice. “No,” he said, more gently. “I would not expect that from you.”

And he pressed a light kiss, quick as moonlight, upon the slope of her wrist.

“Oh.” Stray thought back to last night in the cave, to her first night’s real sleep since she’d left Illunis. It had felt very pleasant to sleep in Logan’s arms. “Can I share your bed?” she asked him.

He shot her a curious, sideways look. His voice was suspicious. “Why would you want to do that?”

She shrugged. “I like sleeping with you.” It was nothing but the truth. “Last night, I felt- I suppose I felt safe.” His expression turned unreadable and she rushed on. “I swear, I would not try anything untoward,” she said hurriedly. “I would not try to… take advantage of you while you were asleep.” Despite himself a small smile played over his lips at the notion of her giving him that assurance, but she did not let that stop her. She knew she had to get through this now. “I know you think I don’t know my own mind on this matter,” she said, more passionately. “But I do. I have seen enough of the world to know that what I feel when I’m with you is…special. Unusual. I know it does not happen every day. But as much as I know my own mind, I understand that this is your decision, Logan. If you ever… want me, really want me, we can see what’s between us. But I’ve spent too much of my life having others decide for me to try to decide for you.”

And she brushed her lips, quick as sunlight, against the slope of his wrist.

Logan very deliberately stilled her this time, when she tried to move away.

“So you agree?” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Its timbre was doing something funny and grating and wonderful to Stray’s insides. Something she’d never felt before.

“Aye, I do.”

“And you want to sleep here?” He gestured to the bed and though she was blushing she nodded. Curled closer. The sheets were soft and warm from wear. They smelt faintly of pipe smoke and him.

“Yes, Logan, I do.”

His smile was somehow unsure, but more than a little happy. He moved over slightly, letting her curl into his side, where his skin was protected against her, and laid his heavy arm against her waist. The weight was- reassuring. The arm felt like it was where it was supposed to be. “Then you go to sleep, my little Trouble-Begot, and I will watch you over you.”

And with that Stray closed her eyes and accepted that her role as the only virgin chatelaine in the Twelvelands.